DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS 

Partial List of Successful and Popular Plays. Large Catalogue Free. 
Price 15c each, Postpaid, Unless Different Price Is Given 



DRAMAS, COMEDIES, 
ENTERTAINMENTS, Etc. 

M. F. 

Aaron Boggs, Freshman, 3 

acts, ly-i hrs (25c) 8 8 

Abbu San of Old Japan, 2 acts, 

2 hrs (25c) 15 

After the Game, 2 acts, 154 

hrs (25c) 1 9 

All a Mistake, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 

(25c) 4 4 

All on Account of Polly, 3 acts, 

.214 hrs. (25c) 6 10 

American Hustler, 4 acts, 2V 2 

hrs :....(25c) 7 4 

As a Woman Thinketh, 3 acts, 

23/4 hrs. ./,... (25c) 9 7 

At the End of the Rainbow, 3 

acts, 2% hrs (25c) 6 14 

Bank Cashier, 4 acts, 2 hrs. 

(25c) ........ 8 4 

Black Heifer, 3 acts, 2 h. (25c) 9 3 
Boy Scout Hero, 2 acts, 1^4 hrs. 

(25c) ..17 

Brookdale Farm, 4 acts, 2 54 

hrs (25c) 7 3 

Brother Josiah, 3 acts, 2 hrs, 

(25c) 7 4 

Burns Rebellion, 1 hr (25c) 8 5 

Busy Liar, 3 acts, 254 h. (25c) 7 4 
Civil Service, 3 acts, '2% hrs. 

(25c) ...... V 6 5 

College Town, 3 acts, 2% 

hrs. (25c) 9 8 

Danger. Signal, 2 acts, 2 hrs. . 7 4 
Daughter of the Desert, 4 

acts, 2% hrs (25c) 6 4 

Deacon Dubbs, 3 acts, 2% hrs. 

(25c) 5 5 

Deacon Entangled, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 

(25c) 6 4 

Down in Dixie, 4 acts, 2 r <4 

hrs (25c) 8 4 

Dream That Came True, 3 

acts, 2% hrs (25c) 6 13 

Editor-in-Chief, 1 hr. ..(25c) 10 
Enchanted Wood, \.y x h. (35c) .Optnl. 
Everyyouth, 3 acts, 154 h. (25c) 7 6 
Face at the Window, 3 acts, 2 

hrs (25c) 4 4 

Fun on the Podunk Limited, 

g 1% hrs ...(25c) 9 14 

Heiress of Hoetown, 3 acts, 2 

hrs (25c) 8 4 

Her Honor, the Mayor, 3 acts, 

2 hrs. (25c) 3 5 

High School Freshman, 3 acts, 

2 hrs. (25c) 12 

Honor of a Cowboy, 4 acts, 2% 

hrs .' (25c) 13" 4 

Indian Days, 1 hr (50c) 5 2 



M. F. 
In Plum Valley, 4 acts, '2 J4 

hrs (25c) 6 4 

Iron Hand, 4 acts, 2 hrs. . (25c) 5 4 
Jayville Junction, 1% hrs. (25c) 14 1/ 
Kicked Out of College, 3 acts, 

2% hrs (25c) 10 9' 

Kingdom of Heart's Content, 3 

acts, 2% hrs (25c) 6 12 

Laughing Cure, 2 acts, 1^4 hrs. 

(25c) 4 5 

Lexington, 4 acts, 254 li. . (25c) 9 4 
Little Buckshot, 3 acts, 2 54 hrs. 

C5c) 7 4 

Lodge of Kye Tyes, 1 hr.(25c)13 
Man from Borneo, 3 acts, 2 

hrs .(25c) 5 2 

Mirandy's Minstrels. . . . (25c) Optn!. 
Mrs. Tubbs of Shantytown, '3 

acts, 2% hrs (25c) 4 7 

New Woman, 3 acts, 1 hr. . . . 3 6- 
Old Maid's Club, 154 hrs. (25c) 2 16 
Old Oaken Bucket, 4 acts, 2 

hrs (25c) 8 6 

Old School at Hick'ry Hollerr 

1J4 hrs. (25c) 12 9 

On the Little Big Horn, 4 acts, 

2% hrs (25c)10 4 

Out in the Streets, 3 acts, 1 hr. 6 4 
Parlor Matches, 2 acts, \ l / 2 hrs. 

(25c) 4 5 

Poor Married Man, 3 acts, 

hrs (25c) 4 4 

Prairie Rose, 4 acts, 254 h.(25c). 7 4 

Rummage Sale, 50 min 4 10 

Rustic Romeo, 2 acts, 254 

hrs (25c) 10 12 

Savageland, 2 acts, 2 l / 2 hrs. (50c) 5 5 
School Ma'am, 4 acts, 1)4 krs. 6. 5 
Scrap of Paper, 3 acts, 2 hrs.. 6 6 
Sewing for the Heathen, 40 min. 9 
Southern Cinderella, 3 acts, 2 

hrs (25c) 7 

Star Bright, 3 acts, 2J4 h. (25c) 6 5 
Teacher, Kin I Go Home? 2 

> scenes, 35 min..... 7 3 

Those Dreadful Twins, 3 acts, 

2 hrs (25c) 6 4 

Thread of Destiny, 3 acts, 2y 2 

hrs (25c) 916 

Tonv, the Convict, 5 acts, 2 l / 2 ■ 

hrs (25c) 7 4 

Town Marshal, 4 acts, 254 

hrs (25c) 6 3 

Trial of Hearts, 4 acts, 2% hrs. 

(25c) 618 

Trip to Storyland, 154 hrs. (25c) 17 23 
Uncle Josh, 4 acts, 254 hrs. (25c) 8 3 • 
Under Blue Skies, 4 acts, 2 

hrs (25c) 7 10 

Under the Laurels, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 6 4 
When the Circus Came to 

Town, 3 acts, 254 hrs. (25c) 5 3 



T.S.DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers,154W. RandolphSt., Chicago 



The Call of the Colors 

A PATRIOTIC PLAY IN TWO ACTS 

FOR FOUR MEN AND TEN WOMEN 

BY 

LINDSEY BARBEE 
it 

AUTHOR OF 

'After the Game," "At the End of the Rainbow*' "The Call of 
Wohelo," "The Dream That Came True," "The Fifteenth of Jan- 
uary," "Then Greek Met Greek," "Her First Scoop " "The King- 
dom of Heart's Content," "The Promise of Tomorrow," "Sing 
a Song of Seniors" "The Spell of the Image" "The Thread 
of Destiny," "Tomorrow at Ten," "The Trial of Hearts," 
"A Watch, a Wallet and a Jaek of Spades," "When 
the Clock Strikes Twelve" "The Whole Truth" "In 
the College Days," "Let's Pretend — A Book of 
Children's Plays," Etc. 




CHICAGO 
S. DENISON & COMPANY 
Publishers 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 



CHARACTERS. 

Mrs. Hilary .Head of the Gauze Room 

Sallie Palmer .In Charge of the Desk 

Miriam Thorpe Who Goes to France 

Lee Somers . . . \ 

Lois Moore. . . . >■ Workers in the Gauze Room 

Laura Jones . . ) 

Miss Smith. Who is Something of a Mystery 

A Visitor. Who Does not Approve 

Cecile Deering Whose Chateau is a Hospital 

Vilette A French Peasant Girl 

Sergeant Hilton ^ Of the Royal Rifles 

Harrison Ray Who Wears Civilian Clothes 

Billy Not yet Enlisted 

Rudolph Sergeant Hilton's "Watch Dog" 

Scene — America and France. 

Time — The Present. 

Time of Playing — About an Hour and a Half. 

Act I. A Gauze Room, near ;an American Training Camp. 

Act II. A Room in a French Chateau, near the Firing 

Line in France. 

COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY T. S. DENISON & COMPANY. 

FEB I8 ! !9I§©CI.D 48937 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 



SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAM. 

Act I — The Red Cross gauze room has various visitors. 
Sergeant Hilton proves the chief topic of conversation and 
the strange Miss Smith is cordially welcomed. Plarrison 
Ray is declared a slacker — and Sergeant Hilton's little black 
book causes much speculation. Miriam makes an announce- 
ment ; Harrison offers an explanation — and the boys go 
marching by ! 

Act II — Sergeant Hilton -renews his acquaintance with 
Miriam and learns of the ammunition hidden in the village. 
The Germans arrive. The Sergeant loses his little black 
book — and Vilette brings news of the enemy. Miss Smith 
finds the book and sends a message. By means of the secret 
telephone Cecile communicates with the other chateau — and 
the firing begins. Sergeant Hilton returns — in another role ; 
a bugle sounds, and the Stars and Stripes go by. The Ser- 
geant, taken unawares, f aces • a revolver. Harrison Ray 
tells his story, the mystery is solved, and the day is saved ! 



THE STORY OF THE PLAY. 

Sergeant Hilton, a young war "veteran," who, disabled, 
is lecturing for the benefit of war relief, proves to be the 
chief topic of conversation among the workers of a Red 
Cross gauze room. His helpless left arm, his engaging per- 
sonality, and the mysterious little black book which he 
always carries, excite much comment ; and, in contrast, the 
conduct of Harrison Ray, who has not enlisted in any 
branch of the service, and who seems content to wear civil- 
ian clothes, is criticized. Miriam Thorpe announces her 
intention of going to France as a nurse, and, impulsively, 
asks Harrison why he, too, has not answered the call of 
the colors. He refuses to tell her. 

The scene shifts to France, where, in a chateau which 
has been turned into a hospital, and which is the property 
of a college friend, Miriam begins her work. In a neigh- 



4 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

boring chateau is hidden an ammunition reserve coveted by 
the enemy, the hiding place known only to a few, among 
them Miss Deering, whose hospital responsibilities nat- 
urally bring her into close association with war authorities. 
She, in turn, gives this knowledge to Miriam and to a 
mysterious Miss Smith who has worked with Miriam in 
an American gauze room and who has followed her to 
France. Sergeant Hilton appears in the village, and, almost 
immediately, a German detachment follows him. Through 
Miriam, who believes him to be a government official, he 
has already learned of the ammunition repository ; so, on 
the arrival of the troops, he hastens to impart his news, 
his treachery unknown to the residents of the chateau. In 
his excitement he loses the little black book which he always 
carries, and it is found by Miss Smith, who, after reading 
it here and there, sends a mysterious message by Vilette, 
a French peasant girl. 

Meanwhile,' the guns begin, and Cecile, by means of a 
secret telephone, communicates with those in charge of the 
ammunition and directs the firing. Suddenly the Sergeant 
enters, demands the book whose loss he has discovered and 
reveals his double personality. In the midst of the excite- 
ment following the denouement a bugle sounds and the 
sight of American soldiers insures the safety of the village. 
The Sergeant hastens to escape, but Miss Smith, in the 
name of secret service, confronts him with a revolver 
and holds him at bay until Harrison Ray enters and declares 
him a prisoner, delivering him into the hands of the law. 
Explanations follow, and Harrison — in khaki at last — gains 
his reward from Miriam. 



CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES. 

Mrs. Hilary — Middle-aged, with slightly gray hair. Dig- 
nified and a trifle domineering. Wears large white apron 
over white gown and red band on her arm. Her cap is a 
square of thin red material with white band around the face 
and white square bearing red cross directly in front. 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 5 

Sallie — Bright and vivacious. Wears pretty summer 
gown and hat and carries bright knitting bag and parasol. 

Mtriam — Sweet and serious. In the first act she wears 
costume similar to that worn by Mrs. Hilary. In the second 
act her costume is that of the regular Red Cross nurse. 

Lee, Lots, Laura — Typical modern girls. Prettv sum- 
mer gowns and hats and regular Red Cross aprons and caps. 

Miss Smith — Quick, alert and self-poised. In first act 
she wears white apron and cap over summer gown. In 
second act, regular nurse's costume. 

A Visitor — Sarcastic, critical and supercilious. . Gown 
and hat somewhat out of style. 

Cectle — Bright, clever and efficient. Regulation nurse's 
costume. 

Yilette — Very animated, with many gestures. Simple 
peasant costume of full skirt, black bodice and white waist. 

Sergeant Htlton — Very engaging in personality. Plain 
business suit in both acts. His left arm hangs quite limp. 

Harrison Ray — Manly, dignified and resolute. Plain 
business suit in first act. United States uniform in second. 

Billy — Typical college youth. Wears white trousers, 
dark coat, white shoes, Panama hat. 

Rudolph — Rough peasant costume. 



PROPERTIES. 

Act I — Three Red Cross tables with scissors, rulers, 
boxes, gauze, etc. Six straight chairs for each table. Chest 
of drawers. Flat desk with telephone, papers, etc. Desk, 
chair. Shelves with cardboard boxes ; hooks for hats. 
Blackboard, screen, mirror, poster. Hats, sweaters, etc., 
for girls. Knitting, knitting bag and parasol for Sallie. 
Large box for Billy. Book for Sergeant. Umbrella for 
Harrison. 

Act TI — Table with lamp, library shears, books, etc. 
Smaller table with painting above. Two large chairs, one 



6 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

straight chair, desk and desk chair. Allied flags, field glasses 
and paper for desk. Pedestal and statue. Fireplace, and- 
irons, mirror and telephone. Rugs, portieres, window cur- 
tains, etc. Cloak for Cecile. Revolver and small United 
States flag for Miss Smith. Book and revolver for Ser- 
geant. Handcuffs for Harrison. 





SCENE PLOT 
Act I. 




/ Screen 


l 


1 n 




y°/Ja 

/ ° 


1 


1 Q 




Shel 
D 

□ 


□ 


□ Chair \ 

Desk O rT" 
v - / Door 

Chest Ki\ 


Act II. 




1 

Door 

//VoChal 
/Ochair 


l_l 

Table 

r 


i | 




Fire-place 


o\ 

p. Pedestal \ 

Chair Ao 
\\o- 
VI o 

DeskA 1 

Chair □ □ \ 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means. right of stage; C, center; R.C., right center; 
L., left; / E., first entrance; U. E., upper entrance; D. E., 
door in flat or scene running across the back of the stage ; up 
stage, away from the footlights ; down stage, near foot- 
lights. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience. 



THE GALL OF THE COLORS 



Act I. 

Scene: A Red Cross gauze room. Full stage. Prac- 
tical door dozvn L. Windows R. U. E. and R. 2 E. Three 
Red Cross tables, one at C ., one dozvi. R. and one at front 
of stage, with rulers, scissors, pasteboard bowls, etc. Six 
chairs at each table. Hooks with hats, coats, bags, etc., 
at L, of C. in F. Shelves with pasteboard boxes for aprons, 
caps, etc., at R. of C. in F. Screen at R. U. E. Flat desk 
with telephone, papers, etc., down L. Large and brightly 
decorated knitting bag, also gay parasol conspicuously dis- 
played on desk. Chair back of desk. Chest of drawers at 
L. 2 E. Large poster with "Quiet Please" at C. in F. Mir- 
ror underneath. Blackboard between windows. 

At rise, stage is well illuminated. Sallie at the desk is 
knitting industriously. Lois is seated back of the table at 
front of stage. Miriam at table down R. Mrs. Hilary, 
with Lee at her right and Laura at her left, stands R. of 
table at C. 

Mrs. Hilary (to Laura). This won't do, Miss Jones. 
(Holds up .gauze square and regards it critically.) The 
hem is too wide, the corners are blunt, and (measuring) 
it is too large by the sixteenth of an inch. 

Laura. But what is the sixteenth of an inch to a poor, 
wounded soldier, Mrs. Hilary? 

Mrs. H. (pompously). We are not considering the sol- 
dier, my dear, but are merely obeying national orders. 

Laura (sighing). And a soldier's first duty is obedi- 
ence. (Takes gauze.) I'll try again. (Turns and as she 
seats herself back of table at C, makes a grimace behind 
Mrs. H.'s back.) 

Mrs. H. (taking gauze which Lee holds out to her). 
Why have you made laparotomy pads and small sponges 
when you were told not to make them? 

7 



8 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Lee. But I wasn't told. 

Mrs. H. (dramatically pointing to blackboard). Read! 
(Reads aloud.) No laparotomy pads and small sponges are 
to be made until further notice. 

Lee (meekly). I forgot to look at the blackboard. 

Mrs. H. In Red Cross work, Miss Somers, inattention 
is as serious an obstacle as inaccuracy. (As she hands back 
the gauze.) Make these into dust cloths. (Moves to front 
of stage.) 

(Lee crosses back of Laura and seats herself L. of tabic, 
engaging in much silent by-play.) 

Mrs. H. (standing back of Lois). Do you call that a 
straight line, Miss Moore? (Points to* gauze.) 

Lois (stay-tied). Why — yes. Isn't it? 

Mrs. H. Did you draw a thread? • 

Lots. Why — no. I just cut it. I've always had a very 
accurate eye. 

In the meantime Miss Smith emerges from behind the 
screen, wearing the Red Cross apron but carrying the cap. 
She makes her way to the desk and engages in a heated 
argument with Sallie. 

Mrs. H. (scornfully). Accurate! One could coast down 
hill on that edge ! 

Sallie. Mrs. Hilary? (Mrs. H. turns and walks toward 
desk.) This lady doesn't want to wear a cap. 

Mrs. H. Doesn't want to wear a cap? May I ask why? 

Miss Smith. It's such a nuisance. It gets in my way. 
and it isn't becoming. 

Mrs. H. (sarcastically). Are you sure you're in the right 
place? The beauty parlors, you know, are on the second 
floor. 

Miss S. (meekly). Oh. if it's a rule — of course I won't 
say another word. 

Mrs. H. (mollified). Surely you understand that we 
must insist upon sanitation and uniformity. Have you had 
previous experience in this work? 

Mtss S. None whatever. 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 9 

Mrs. H. Then I shall put you at the kindergarten table. 
(Guides her to table dozen R.) Miss Thorpe? (Miriam 
looks up.) A recruit! 

Miriam (smiling and nodding). Then we'll do our best 
to make the recruiting station attractive. (Mrs. II. and 
Miriam instruct the newcomer.) 

Enter Visitor at L. Sallie rises and starts toward her, 
knitting as she goes. The ball of yarn drops, she dives for 
it, the Visitor side-steps and becomes entangled in the yarn. 

Sallie. Oh, I beg your pardon! (Extricating the vic- 
tim.) I — beg — your — pardon! (As she rises the Visitor 
stoops and Sallie's needles graze her cheeks.) Oh, I hope 
I haven't hurt you! (The Visitor glares and Sallie be- 
comes confused.) I — I — suppose you wish to see one of 
the workers ! 

Visitor (grimly). If that needle had gone half an inch 
nearer the eye, young woman, my chances for seeing any- 
body would have been diminished. 

Sallie (examining the scratched check). But it didn't 
even leave a mark! (Mrs. H. crosses to them.) 

Mrs. H. Good afternoon. Is there any information we 
can give you? (Sallie returns to desk.) 

Visitor (airily). None, thank you. I have just finished 
the Red Cross course in New York, consequently the details 
are quite fresh in my mind. (Pauses.) A tour of neighbor- 
ing towns is proving most — enlightening. 

Mrs. H. It must be extremely gratifying to note the 
efficiency resulting from national orders. 

Visitor (shrugging her shoulders insinuatingly). Effi- 
ciency? (Gases about her.) Are these all your workers? 

Mrs. H. (bridling). Certainly not. The hour is late, the 
afternoon is warm — naturally our attendance suffers. 

Visitor. Indeed? One imagines that the proximity of a 
training camp would spur the young ladies to greater effort. 
(Moves slowly to table at C., reading blackboard as she 
goes. Turns sharply to Mrs. H.. who is behind her.) Since 
when have we eliminated laparotomy pads and small 
sponges? 



10 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Mrs. H. (just as sharply). Since the last bulletin, of' 
course. 

Visitor: What erroneous reports are spread ! Being 
right from New York — I knozv. (Feels gauze on table.) 
Dear me ! What an inferior quality ! 

Mrs. H. Even as such we prefer not to have it held be- 
tween gloved fingers. (Visitor critically inspects work at 
table down R., followed haughtily by Mrs. H.) 

Visitor. So much depends upon the first instruction. 
(Looks more closely.) Oh, is that the way you do it? 
(Shrugs her shoulders and passes on to R. U . E., follozved 
by Mrs. H., speechless zuith rage. Lois, who has been watch- 
ing the proceedings zvitli interest, joins Lee and Laura> 
and they all whisper together quite audibly.) Is your soap 
antiseptic? (Looks behind screen, then points to poster 
zvith a glance tozvard the laughing, whispering girls.) Isn't 
it strange how requests are ignored ! 

Mrs. H. Not at all, since often the incentive is sufficient 
to excuse any infringement of rules. 

Visitor (crossing to desk, pausing and feeling the yarn 
which Sallie is knitting). Dear me! The soldier who 
wears this will be scratched to death. 

Sallie (calmly). Then let us hope that he'll be polite 
enough not to mention it. 

Visitor (as she moves to the door). It has been a very 
interesting and (sarcastically) educational visit. (To Mrs. 
H.) Thank you — and — good morning! (Exit.) 

Mrs. H. (who has remained at desk). Back to your 
work young ladies! (Lois Jiurrics to table at front of 
stage.) And forget the interruption. 

Sallie. Wasn't she irritating — and ridiculous ! 

Mrs. H. So ridiculous that it humiliates me to be irri- 
tated by her. „ x ■ - 
J Enter Billy at L. 

Billy. 'Morning, Mrs. Hilary. (Glances around at the 
girls, who nod and wave.) 'Morning, everybody! (Hands 
large box to Mrs. H.) Mother sent this over — said you'd 
understand. 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 11 

Mrs. H. Thank you, Billy. I'll look over the contents 
right away so that you may report. You don't mmd wait- 
ing a few moments, do you? (Moves down stage.) 

Billy. Not a bit of it. 

Mrs. H. {turning). Haven't enlisted yet? 

Billy. No such good luck. To be within three months 
of twenty-one and have a training camp which you can't 
enter right under your nose is too tough a proposition for 
any fellow to standv 

Mrs. H. (as she seats herself at table down stage). Go- 
ing back to college? 

Billy. Not much. What's a degree compared to shoul- 
der-straps? (Seats himself on desk end.) Hello, Sal! 
(Catches up the knitting bag.) Is this yours? (Looks in- 
tently at it and whistles.) Is there anything in the animal, 
vegetable and mineral kingdoms which isn't here? 

Sallie. Yes. The apple of discord. You must have 
met it outside the door. 

Billy (swinging the bag vigorously). Sure it wasn't a 
bunch of sour grapes — or a lemon? 

Sallie (as a ball of yarn falls out). Watch out — or 
you'll get tangled up. 

Billy (stuffing it back into the bag). Heaven forbid. 
Last night between acts at the show, when I tried to reach 
the aisle, the web of yarn was so thick that the usher had 
to extricate my feet. 

Sallie. Served you right. Little boys should stay put. 

Billy. Saw your picture today. 

Sallie. Where? 

Billy (teasingly). Suppose I should say — on Sergeant 
Hilton's mantel-piece. 

Sallie. I'd know that you were handling the truth lightly. 

Billy. Just the same, I'm willing to wager my best pipe 
that you girls have given him an art gallery of yourselves. 

Sallie. If that's all the conversation you can furnish. 
I beg to be excused. 

Billy. Well, as I was saying, I saw your picture today. 



12 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Sallie (ironically) . Back where you started, aren't you? 
Well, I 111 follow suit by saying again — where? 

Billy. In the Post. You were rapturously embracing 
an old cart horse, swathed in bandages — the horse, I mean, 
not you. 

Sallie. Oh, that! Just a demonstration of our work in 
the Dumb Friends' League. 

Billy. Where did you get the dumb friend? 

Sallie. An unreasonable old expressman at the corner 
loaned him. 

Billy.. Why unreasonable? Surely his faith was great 
if he trusted his property to amateur hands. 

Sallie. Oh, he was all right about that — but it was after- 
wards. 

Billy. What happened? Did you maim the animal? 

Sallie. No. We simply forgot to return him. 

Billy. Then I don't blame the expressman, for he prob- 
ably lost a few dollars on account of your forgetfulness. 

Sallie. But it was all for the good of the cause. The 
man who has no patriotism in times like these doesn't de- 
serve to succeed. 

Mrs. IT. (rising). Billy ?_ 

Billy (standing). Yes, Mrs. Hilary. 

Mrs. IT. I cannot accept these things. They do not con- 
form to the prescribed measurements. I'm sorry, but my 
position forces me to be frank. 

Billy (protestingly). But, Mrs. Hilary, I can't spare 
time to trot back home again. 

Mrs. H. (firmly). Don't argue. Billy, but hurry off with 
this (thrusts box in his hands) and tell your mother that 
I'll telephone her tonight. (Turns to tabic at C. and busies 
herself with work. Btlly stands motionless for a moment, 
then angrily claps his hat on his head and bolts out the door, 
leaving it open behind him.) You see, my dear boy, we 
must insist upon uniformity and accuracy, just as we must 
impress upon all workers the necessity of observing the 
rules even to the slightest degree, and if — 

Sallie (who has tip-toed to the door). He's gone! 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 13 

Mrs. H. (wheeling). Gone? 
(Telephone rings and Sallie hurries back to the desk.) 

Sallie (taking receiver). Yes. This is the gauze room. 
1 can't understand you — shake up your phone. Oil — I'll 
ask her. (To Mrs. H.) The workers on the third floor 
want you for the rest of the afternoon. Can you go? 

Mrs. H. (bustling around importantly). Certainly I can 
go. Miss Thorpe will take charge. Miss Thorpe? (Miriam 
comes forward to desk.) 

Sallie. She'll come right away. Very well. (Hangs 
up receiver.) 

Mrs. H. Miss Thorpe, will you superintend as long as 
the young ladies care to stay? (Miriam assents.) And 
hefore you go he sure that the gauze is put away, the scis- 
sors laid in the bottom drawer, the threads and the pins 
picked up, and the chairs arranged in an orderly way — and 
— (looks around) well, I believe that's all. I'll see you at 
the next appointed time, young ladies. (Exit at L.) 

Sallte (dropping into desk cliair) . Oh-h-h ! I feel like 
a limp, limp rag! 

Lois (leaving her table and seating herself at C .) . And 
von look like a red, red rose, my dear. Use your powder- 
puff. 

Sallie (languidly pozvdering her nose). I hate ho! 
weather. 

Laura (pettishly). And I hate hot work. I'm fairly 
sticking to this gauze. 

Lee. Everything gets on my nerves. I keep seeing the 
poor, wounded soldier who will need this stuffy and the 
table changes into an operating board; and the scissors are 
shining instruments ; and- 1 - 

Miriam (leaning on desk). That will do, Lee. Visual- 
izing isn't good for any of you, so let's shut up shop. 

Lois. Miriam, you're a good old sport. (Rises, goes to 
slielvcs R. of C. in F. and takes off apron and cap.) 

Miriam. For as Mrs. Hilary says, it's late, it's warm— 

Laura. And there's going to be a dance tonight. 



14 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

(Miriam draws chair from L. of tabic to R. of desk and 
scats herself.) 

Lee. It's a shame that more people don't help out, even 
if it is summer. That snoopy, snippy woman made me 
angry, but I could see her point when she shrugged her 
shoulders and said, "Are these all your workers?" 

Sallie (resuming her knitting). My dear child, haven't 
you learned that the Red Cross is Society's plaything? 

Miriam. Well, thank goodness, the most of us take it 
seriously. 

Lois (moving L. of C. in F. and taking hat and sweater 
from hook). Has Sergeant Hilton asked you for a dance, 
Laura ? 

Laura (going to R. of C. in F.). Well, rather. Do you 
suppose I'd be going if he hadn't? (Puts cap and apron 
away.) 

Lois (at mirror). How do you suppose he dances? 

Laura. With his feet, perhaps. (Crosses and takes hat 
from hook.) 

.Lois. Don't be funny. You know what I mean. 

Laura (pushing Lois from mirror). People usually 
dance with their feet, don't they? 

Lois. Not everybody has a left arm that won't work 
and a set of eyes that can't see half across the room. 

Miss S. (rising and crossing to Miriam). Have I done 
this correctly, Miss Thorpe? .(Holds out gauze work.) 

Miriam {examining it). Perfectly. But please don't 
work so hard,. 

Miss S. But I have so much to learn before I can com- 
pete with you people. 

Miriam. At this rate, a week or so will make you a 
dangerous competitor. 

Miss S. But I may not be here that long. Perhaps it 
was foolish of me even to begin the work. 

Miriam. Are you a visitor? 

Miss S. Just for a short time. I'm with Mrs. Raines. 

Miriam. Then Mrs. Raines should have telephoned us 
about you. 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 15 

Miss S. She meant to come with me today but some- 
thing interfered. 

Lee. You must think us an unsociable lot. Why, we 
haven't even asked you your name. 

Miss S. It's— (hesitates) Smith. 

Laura. Then I know just how you feel, for mine is 
Jones. (Conies dozen L. to desk.) Some day we may 
change them, so cheer up! (Sits on arm of desk chair.) 

Miss S. But I don't even change the i in mine to y, 
nor do I have the dignity of an added e. I'm just — plain 
Smith. 

Lois (coming dozen C. and seating herself at C. back 
of table).. We don't quite agree with you about that. 
Come. (Draws out chair at her right.) Let's get ac- 
quainted. 

Miss S. (crossing back of Lois). Are you as nice as 
this to every stranger? 

Sallie. I wish I'd heard of you sooner. We're having 
a dance tonight for our training camp boys — and — would 
you go at this late hour? 

Miss S. (hesitating). Oh — I don't — know. 

Lee (rising). It's very informal, and for once in our 
lives we have a superfluity of men. (Crosses R. of C. in 
F. and puts away her. cap and apron.) Please go. 

Miss S. (impulsively). Oh, I'd love to, if you think it's 
all right. 

Lee (adjusting her hat before the mirror). Perfectly. 
And I'll get you any kind of a man you want, — dark or 
light, fat or slim, tall or short, smart or silly, rich or poor — 

Miss S. (laughingly) . Oh, but I'm not so particular as 
all that! 

Lee (coming dozen R. and seating herself at Miss S.'s 
right). We can't afford to be too particular in war times. 

Lois. Save that we prefer a uniform to a civilian suit. 

Laura. Speaking of uniforms, why doesn't the Ser- 
geant wear his? You'd think he would be pining to display 
it after its marvelous experiences. 

Sallie. Maybe he's too modest to flaunt his heroism. 

Lee. More likely the poor old thing is shot to pieces, 



16 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Laura. I intend to ask him the next time I see him. 

Sallie. That will be this afternoon if yon wait long 
enough. He's coming here for me. 

Lois. So you're the latest moth to be singed, are yon? 

Sallie. Not at all. I'm merely the next on the Ser- 
geant's very long list. 

Miss S. Who is this Sergeant — or do yon mind if I 
ask? 

Lee. Who is the Sergeant? That very question, my dear. 
] >rovcs that yon are a stranger. Why, the Sergeant is the 
sun around which the feminine planets revolve — the blos- 
som besieged by buzzing bees — the — 

Miriam (interrupting). Don't mind Lee's nonsense. 
Sergeant Hilton is a very attractive young war veteran — 
if there is any such thing. 

Miss S. (eagerly). Tell me about him. 

Miriam. When the war began he was at college, but 
with several other students went to Canada and enlisted 
in the Royal Rifles. 

Miss S. But the Royal Rifles were annihilated, weren't 
they? 

Miriam. Almost. A few escaped, among them Sergeant 
Hilton. 

Miss S. How wonderful! 

Miriam. Isn't it? His poor left arm hangs quite help-. 
less — the nerve was pierced by a bayonet ; and his eyes are 
affected by the poisonous gases. 

Lois (to herself). I still don't see how he can dance. 

Miss S. But why is he here? 

Mtrtam. On a lecture tour for war relief. He's been 
in many of the cities and is now visiting the training camps. 

Miss S. I never heard of anything so thrilling. Why, 
it must be a regular education to talk to him. 

Sallie. So say we all of us. The feminine portion of 
the town has never before been seized with such a thirst 
for knowledge. 

Laura. Don't blame it altogether on the feminine por- 
tion. The business men have wined and dined him and 
the training camp boys are crazy about him. 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 17 

Lee. Lie fairly lives at the camp ; has taught the hoys 
how to use the bayonet and has given them a real prac- 
tical knowledge of the somewhere in France tactics. 

Miss S. Has he been here long? 

Sallie. Over a month. He keeps lingering, but declares 
that tonight's festivity is positively his last appearance. 

Lois. Then I wonder what lucky lady is his choice for 
the dance. You, Sal? 

Sallie. Not I. I'm next on the list, but not necessarily 
last. 

Miriam. That honor falls to me. 

Laura. You, Miriam? Good gracious! 

Miriam (laughing). Your surprise at his choice is hardly 
complimentary, my dear. 

Laura. Well, naturally, we thought you would go with 
Harrison Ray. 

Miriam (quietly). Why — naturally? 

Laura. Because he has singled you out from the first. 

Miriam. Well, even from the first, it wouldn't be such 
a long acquaintance. 

Laura. Two months? In these days that's quite long 
enough to know a person. 

Miriam. Is it? Then Harrison Ray must be an excep- 
tion. 

Lois (thoughtfully). I'd call Harrison Ray a mystery. 

Lee. What is there mysterious about him? A clever, 
well-bred, attractive man, properly introduced, who came 
here a stranger and has made many friends. 

Laura. Yes, but has he kept them? 

Lee. What do you mean? 

Laura (hesitates). Why — why — 

Miriam. Don't mind me, Laura. I agree with what 
vou're going to say. (Rises, and while the others converse, 
moves slowly around the room, plaees gauze and scissors 
in the chest of drawers, straightens chairs, picks up thread, 
etc.) 

Laura. Well, how can such a splendid fellow be a 
slacker? 



18 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Sallie. Slacker is a pretty hard term to apply to a man 
in these days. 

Laura. What else can you call him? He fails to enlist 
in any branch of the service, isn't drafted, and seems per- 
fectly content to play around while everybody else follows 
Uncle Sam. 

Miriam (from back of stage). Don't judge too hastily. 
There is always the possibility of extenuating circum- 
stances. 

Laura. Not at a time like this. Why, if I had a brother 
who didn't answer the call of the colors, I'd go myself 
as a Red Cross nurse. 

Miriam (coming down stage). Just what I intend to 
do. This gives me a splendid opportunity to announce it. 

Lois. W r hat do you mean? 

Miriam (standing back of chair R. of desk). Just what 
I say. I've taken a thorough course, as you know, have 
received my certificate, and have been promised a pass- 
port. Oh, I'm really going. 

Lee. Where ? 

Miriam. Somewhere in France. 

Sallie. Miriam, surely you're not in earnest. 

Miriam. Why not? You know it's always been my 
ambition to go. 

Sallie. But — to France! 

Miriam. You remember my college friend, Cecile Deer- 
ing, don't you? 

Lois. Perfectly. 

Miriam. You've heard me speak perhaps of her French 
mother, who died when she was a child, and her American 
father, who had her educated in his own country. But I 
may not have mentioned their chateau, which is situated 
near the firing line and which has been Cecile's home since 
her father's death. This has been turned into a hospital 
— and it's there I'm going. 

Miss S. (eagerly). It's wonderful — wonderful! 

Laura (fervently). And how T envy you the chance! 
(Pauses.) And oh, how I wish I were a man! 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 19 

Enter Sergeant Hilton at L. 

Sergeant (laughingly)] We don't, for I speak for my 
sex when I suggest that we much prefer you as you are. 

Laura. Sergeant Hilton! {Holds out her hands, which 
he takes.) 

Sallie (laughingly). Listen to the man! Is his supply 
of pretty speeches inexhaustible? 

Sergeant (as he takes Sallie's and Miriam's hand in 
turn). Why not? When there is such an inspiration. 

(Miriam crosses to window at R. U.E. and stands look- 
ing out.) 

Lois. • Here's someone who wishes to meet you, Ser- 
geant. (Indicates Miss S.) Miss Smith! She's a stranger 
in our town. 

Sergeant (acknowledging the introduction). And I am 
leaving so soon ! My misfortune. 

Lee. Ours too. (As she takes his hand.) We hate to 
see you go, soldier man. 

Sergeant. And I hate to go more than I can say. 
Unfortunately, a soldier must move on. 

Sallie. Not at this particular moment, I hope. (Mo- 
tions him to chair R. of desk.) I want to finish this row. 

Sergeant (crossing to chair R. of desk). Knit as many 
as you wish. (To Miriam.) Miss Thorpe, isn't this your 
chair? 

Miriam (turning). Please be seated and let me stand. 
It's a real relaxation after the afternoon's work. 
(Sergeant scats himself R. of desk.) 

Lois. Where do you go next? 

Sergeant. To France, I hope. 

Lee. Then you and Miriam may meet again. 

Sergeant (in surprise). Really? 

Miriam (smiling). Possibly. I'm to be an accredited 
Red Cross nurse. 

Sergeant (eagerly). At what place? 

Miriam. Oh, somewhere. 

Sergeant. Even with that fragmentary address I in- 
tend to find you. 



20 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Miriam (crossing and standing behind Lee's chair). 
You'll recognize me by my uniform. 

Laura. By the way, Sergeant, why don't you wear 
your uniform? 

Sergeant. It's put carefully away — rags and all. 
That's why. 

Laura. But it would he the finishing touch to your 
lecture. 

Sergeant {laughing). And the finishing touch to — me. 

Lois. You're too modest. Why, I'll wager that you 
have all kinds of medals for bravery. Victoria cross, 
maybe, or — (mischievously) iron cross! 

Sergeant. Stop right there — or — 

Lee. You'll be putting down marks against us in that 
little black book which you always carry with you. 

Sergeant (quickly). What do you know about my 
little black book? 

Lee. Nothing. That's why we're so curious. 

Laura. Perhaps — it's a life tragedy. 

Sergeant. Perhaps. 

Lois. Or a record of your love affairs. 

Sergeant. Unrequited. 

Sallte. Now r we kncm< you're fibbing. 

Miss S. And it may be that between its covers are — 
mere statistics ! 

Sergeant (as lie takes the book from his pocket). 
Wrong — all of you. So I'll tell you what I've never told 
to anyone — because most people wouldn't understand. 
This little old book is my companion. It's been with me in 
the trenches, and in the long hours of — waiting — I wrote 
in it what a fellow says only to his friend. It's my com- 
rade — a real part of me — and that's why it never leaves 
me. (Returns book to pocket.) 

Lee (after a pause). We're a lot of inquisitive beasts. 
Please forgive us. 

Sallie (putting away her knitting). Well, I've fin- 
ished — and if it's agreeable to you. Sergeant, we'll be on 
our way. (Glances out.) It's a bit cloudy. 

Sergeant (rising). Just as you say. As T expect to 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 21 

see all you people tonight, it's only au revoir. (Crosses 
to window at R. U. /:. and looks out.) It is cloudy, and 
I shouldn't wonder if we'd need an umbrella more than 
a parasol. (Looks closer.) Hello, there's Ray over there. 

Lois. How can your poor eyes recognize anybody at 
such a distance? {Crosses to window at R. 2 E. and looks 
out.) 

Sergeant. Only by his civilian clothes. Not many 
young fellows indulge in them these days. By Jove, it 
makes me want my uniform. 

Lois. I don't understand Harrison Ray. 

Sergeant. Why ? 

Lois. Because — well, you've just said it — he's wearing 
civilian clothes. 

Sergeant. Physical incapacity, perhaps. 

Lois. Ridiculous ! 

Sergeant. Under or over age. 

Lois. Not from appearances. 

Sergeant. Somebody dependent. 

Lois. Of course not. 

Lee. How do you know? 

Lois. I don't. In fact, when I stop to think about it, 
nobody knows anything about him. 

Sergeant. Nobody can afford to be mysterious these 
days without exciting the suspicion that he is more inter- 
ested in some other government than in his own. 

Miriam. That is a cowardly thing to say behind one's 
back, Sergeant Hilton. What has Harrison Ray ever done 
to deserve it? {Stands by Lois.) 

Sergeant. My dear Miss Thorpe! What has Harrison 
Ray to do with the question? I made the remark thought- 
lessly and offhandedly without an idea of having it per- 
sonal. 

Miriam. And I spoke impulsively. I beg your pardon, 
Sergeant, and ask you to forget the incident. 

Sergeant. I'm glad you spoke, for a thoughtless re- 
mark like that of mine should never go unchecked. Thank 
you for pulling me up, and let's pretend that our flash of 



22 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

lightning is just part of the storm which is about to descend 
upon us. 

Sallie (who with parasol and bag is waiting impatiently 
at the door). Well, it won't be a circumstance to the vocal 
storm that will hit a certain military gentleman if he lingers 
much longer. 

Sergeant (hurriedly crossing to her). ( Then, forward, 
march! (As they pass out the door he turns and zvaves 
his hat.) Till later! 

Lee. Isn't he a peach? I'm crazy about him. 

Lois (sauntering to C). I still don't see how he dances. 
His poor arm hangs limper than ever. 

Laura. It will certainly be a relief to all of us, Lois, 
when you settle that question. (After a pause.) I wonder 
if there could be anything in what he said — about spies. 

Miriam. There! I just knew that some of you would 
keep that thought. It isn't fair. 

Laura. My word, but you're peppery. Rather a per- 
sonal interest in Harrison Ray, I'm thinking. 

Lee (rising). I'm going home before anybody gets any 
crosser. 

Lois. I can stand the crossness but my hat can't stand 
the rain. Come along — all of you ! 

Miriam. I must see Mrs. Hilary before I go, so don't 
wait. 

Laura (turning to Miss S.). Can't we see you on your 
way, Miss Smith? 

Miss S. Oh, I'm not ready and I have several errands 
anyway, — so you'd better leave me. 

Laura. Well, we'll see you at the dance 

Lee. And your man will be forthcoming. (With a 
chorus of goodbyes, Lois, Lee and Laura leave the room.) 

Miriam (crossing- to Miss S.). I'm on my way to the 
third floor to interview Mrs. Hilary. If you are not here 
when I return (holds out her hand), goodbye, and thanks 
for your help. 

Miss S. (taking Mtrtam's hand). That's just what I 
intended to say to you! 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 23 

Miriam (laughingly). Isn't it fine that we appreciate 
each other! (Goes out door at L.) 

Miss S. goes R. of C., takes off her cap and apron, puts 
them away and goes behind the screen, /inter Harrison 
Ray and at the sound of his step Miss S. emerges. 

Miss S. Raymond! 

Harrison (raising hand). Hush! Remember, that isn't 
my name — here. (Meets her at C.) Well? 

Miss S. So far so good. Thanks to Mrs. Raines, I've 
been cordially welcomed, have been included in their fes- 
tivities, and as a result feel like the hypocrite I am. 

Harrison (grimly). Don't think for a moment that I 
can't appreciate your sensation. 

Miss S. You were the subject of much discussion today. 

Harrison. I expected it. 

Miss S. Miss Thorpe defended you. 

Harrison. Thank heaven for that. (Lowers his voice.) 
What did you learn? 

Miss S. (quietly). Much that will interest you, and I 
shall do even better tonight. (As Miriam appears at the 
door her voice changes to an impersonal and formal tone.) 
But here she is now, so she can answer for herself. 
(Crosses to L. of C. in F. and takes her hat from hook.) 

Miriam enters L. 

Miriam. Why, Harrison, I didn't know you were ac- 
quainted with Miss Smith. 

Harrison. Miss Smith, as the only occupant of the 
room, kindly gave me information of your whereabouts. 

Miss S. (as slic passes Miriam). And this time, Miss 
Thorpe, I'm really going. (Goes out door.) 

Harrison. It's just about ready to storm. I hope you 
don't mind my bringing you an umbrella. 

Miriam (crossing to desk). Mind? Hardly. On the 
contrary, T'm very grateful for your thoughtfulness. 

Harrtson (looking around). So— this is what claims 
your time and interest. 



24 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Miriam (nodding). To such an extent that I can't see 
any future without it. 

Harrison. What do you mean? 

Miriam (seating herself at desk). I'm sailing for — 
France. 

Harrison. For France f [Stands R. of desk.) 

Miriam. For France. I'm accredited in Red. Cross? 
work, you know, and friends have made it possible for 
me to put it to practical use. 

Hark i sox. But why — France? 

Miriam. Because I haven't the spirit of a stay-at-home. 

Harrison. Don't you believe that a stay-at-home has 
any part to play? 

Miriam. Every one of us has some part to play in such 
a world war as this, Harrison. 

Harrison. Th.cn why not find your work at home? 

Miriam (shaking her head). I can't be satisfied — here. 
Aside from the desire to be at the front — to help where 
there is greatest need — I have the feeling that — (pauses) 
that I must be a substitute, even a poor one, for some man 
who is unwilling to heed the call of the flag. 

Harrison (turning aside). Those are hard words, 
Miriam. 

. Miriam. I do not mean them to be hard, Harrison. 
Perhaps they only ask the question, why have you not en- 
tered the country's service? 

Harrison (turning and leaning on desk). Do you' think 
km a coward? 

Miriam. I know you are not. 

Harrison. Do you trust me? 

Miriam (steadily). I always have. 

Harrison. Then — listen. T can't explain the situation 
which is bringing criticism upon me. You must take my 
word that I have only love and loyalty for my country. 
(After a pause.) Do you believe me? 

Miriam.- I believe you, but T cannot understand. I hear 
only the call for help, for courage, for sacrifice, for hero- 
ism, and T want you to answer that call! (Sound of drums 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 25 

without.) Listen! (She rises and hurries to window at R. 
U. E.) The boys! The boys! They're following the flag! 
(She gazes steadfastly out the window. Harrison turns 
away and stands at C. until — ) 

Curtain. 



Act II, 



Scene: Room in a French chateau. Large door L. of 
C. in F., revealing wainscot drop. Practical door at R. U. 
F., hidden by tapestry portiere. Curtained window down 
L. Long table with lamp, books, library shears, etc., down 
R. Fireplace at 0. in F. with old-fashioned andirons. Mir- 
ror above fireplace. Large chairs L. of table and near 
fireplace. Smaller chair at R. 2 F. Table R. of fireplace 
with large old-fasliioned painting above. Desk and chair 
at L. 2 E. Paper and field glasses on desk. Allied flags 
above desk. Pedestal and statue at L. U. E. Rugs for 
floor. If possible, all furniture should be antique. 

At rise, stage is well illuminated. Miriam is seated L. 
of tabic and Sergeant Hilton at R. 2 E. 

Sergeant. With a stretch of imagination and a disre- 
gard of the fact that yon have been in France three months, 
1 might believe that we are still in America — in the gauze 
room ! 

Miriam. In the ganze room? My imagination isn't so 
elastic as yonrs, Sergeant, for it's a far cry from those 
days of preparation to this life of activity. 

Sergeant. Yon have chosen a beantifnl place for your 
work. 

Miriam. Wonderful, isn't it? Its quiet, sunshine and 
its indescribable atmosphere have given peace and healing 
to the poor, brave boys who have sought refuge under its 
hospitable roof. 

Sergeant. Then the new life has brought you all that 
you anticipated? 

Miriam. All — and more. For it has taught me to for- 



26 THE GATE OF THE COLORS 

get myself in helping others ; it has shown me the beauty 
of sacrifice, the unselfishness of suffering and the blessed- 
ness of mercy; it has given me a true philosophy of life. 

Sergeant. And this philosophy is — 

Miriam. That what happens to just one person really 
counts for nothing; that all life amounts to is the oppor- 
tunity for service. {Suddenly.) But why should I be 
telling you this. You have already given so splendidly of 
yourself ! 

Sergeant. The standpoint of another never loses its 
charm for me. 

Miriam. But rather let us- go on from where we were 
interrupted yesterday, for it is quite possible that we shall 
be interrupted today. A nurse is never sure of her time. 
I was asking you to account for yourself since I last saw 
you. 

The portiere at R. U. E. is pushed aside only for a mo- 
ment, revealing the face of Miss S. She is unseen by the 
two. 

Sergeant. A few words will do that. I was detained 
in the East, called to Canada, and have been on this side a 
comparatively short time. 

Miriam. But you can't go back into service. 

Sergeant. Not military service. Fortunately, there are 
other ways in which a man may serve his country. 

Enter Miss S. at R. U. E. and quietly makes her way 
to desk at L. 2 E. The Sergeant rises and looks at her 
with a puzzled expression. 

Miss S. (without looking at him). A memorandum for 
Miss Deering. Pardon me for the interruption, Miss 
Thorpe. (Takes paper from desk, crosses and goes out at 
R. U. E.) 

Sergeant. I've seen that girl somewhere. 

Miriam. Eleanor Smith? Of course you have. She 
attended the dance which we gave on the night before you 
left. 

Sergeant. And crossed with me. 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 27 

Miriam. Evidently she doesn't remember you. (Laugh- 
ingly.) That must be a novel experience for you, Sergeant, 

Sergeant (to himself). So it was — she — on the steamer. 

Miriam (teasingly). Don't be so worried about it. She 
met you only once, remember. 

Sergeant. But I seldom forget a face. (Sits.) What 
is she doing here? 

Miriam. Helping, of course — just as I am. 

Sergeant. But how did she happen to come — here? 

Miriam. Why not? She heard me tell of my plans, 
trained herself accordingly and wrote me to find a place 
for her. Cecile needed helpers — and was glad to take her. 

Sergeant. Sometimes it isn't wise to share such work 
with — strangers. 

Miriam. She is hardly a stranger, and in the short time 
she has been with us we have found her a treasure. But, 
come — let's go back to yourself. In what particular way 
are you serving your country? 

Sergeant. My work isn't definite enough to have a 
name. I'm on my way to the front now. 

Miriam. We're beginning to feel that we ourselves are 
almost on the firing line. 

Sergeant. Your little village is harboring an ammuni- 
tion reserve, isn't it? 

Miriam. How do you know? 

Sergeant. It's my business to know. 

Miriam. Then you're — close to the government? 

Sergeant. Call it what you will. (Pauses.) How can 
this open country effectively conceal even a small reserve? 

Miriam. It's more than a reserve — it's a well-filled mag- 
azine, and its possession would mean much to the enemy. 

Sergeant. Is it in plain sight? 

Miriam (rising). Come. (Goes to window, followed 
by him.) Over 'there. (Points.) Oh, I keep forgetting 
that you can't see so far. 

Sergeant. I can always see outlines. 

Miriam. Then you can imagine its size. It's an old, old 
chateau whose underground passages, vaults and dungeons 
make an ideal repository. 



28 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Sergeant. How many know of this? 

Miriam. Very few. The villagers think of the soldiers 
quartered there as only a convenient home guard. 

Sergeant. Evidently inside information comes your 
way. 

Miriam. Naturally. Cecile belongs to an old and illus- 
trious French family. Her heart and soul are in the cause, 
and we are in direct communication with headquarters. 

Sergeant (looking around). Direct communication! 

Miriam (gazing intently out the windozv). Something 
has happened down in the village. The people are running 
here and there and — (pauses as her expression and tone 
change) look. Sergeant Hilton, look! There are soldiers — 
everywhere. Don't tell me that they are Germans ! 

Sergeant (excitedly). Have you glasses? The distance 
you know — 

Miriam. Oh, I forgot! (Catches glasses from desk and 
hands them to him.) Can you see? 

Sergeant (kneeling at window and looking intently). 
Enough to tell me that you are in the hands of the enemy. 
(He turns and quickly rises. As he does so the black book 
slips from his pocket and falls un perceived to floor.) Re- 
main here — admit no one — and we'll hope that it is a false 
alarm. 

Miriam. False alarm? From the Germans? Hardly. 

Sergeant. Well, I'll investigate and report later. 
(Takes her hand.) Em sure that there's no cause to worry. 
Goodbye. (Exit L. of C. in F.) 

Enter Cecile at R. U. E. 

Cecile. Miriam, have you heard? 

Miriam (meeting her at C). Eve seen. What are we 
to do, Cecile? 

Cecile. Stand our ground, of course. 

Miriam. They surely would hesitate to molest^a hos- 
pital. 

Cecile. They hesitate at nothing. Let us look that fact 
squarely in the face. 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 29 

Miriam [moving to window). Can it be that they have 
heard of the ammunition? 

Cecile (joining her). Possibly. Rather let us hope that 
the village is merely a stopping place on their march. 

Enter Miss S. at R. U. E. 

Miss S. (at C). From the window in the north turret 
one obtains an excellent view of the entire valley. As I 
am not on duty, I can take my stand there and report if 
necessary. 

Cecile. If you will, Eleanor. Until we can be sure of 
their intentions we can make no move. 

Enter Vilette at L. of C. in great distress and excitement. 

Vilette. .Les Bodies, Ma'am'selle Cecile — les Bodies ! 
(Comes down L.) 

Cecile {seizing her arm). Vilette, have you been in 
the village? 

Vilette (half -crying) . Oui, ma'am'selle! Les Boches 
( waving arms ) — partout ! 

Cecile (gently shaking her). Try to be quiet and listen 
to inc. I must know just what has happened — and I depend 
upon you to tell me. 

Vilette (composing herself). Oui, Ma'am'selle Cecile! 

Cecile. Begin at the first. 

Vilette. Quand j'eus fini mon ouvrage — 

Cecile. English, Vilette, so that Miss Smith can un- 
derstand your story. 

Vilette. When ze work is finish, I go an marche. We 
talk, we laugh and zen — tout-a-coup — we hear ze sound 
of marching, marching. Vite, out from ze dust — comme 
un eclair — march les Boches ! 

Cecile. And how many were there? 

Vilette. Un million, ma'am'selle ! 

Cecile. Try to be accurate, Vilette. 

Vilette. So many zat I cannot count zem. Zey crowd 
in ze - shops — in ze houses — in l'eglise — 

Cecile (glancing at Miriam) That certainly looks as 
if they were here to stay. 



30 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Vilette. And ze guns! Ze terrible guns! (Clasps her 
J lands.) 

Miriam. You were near them? 

Vilette. Oh, non — non — non — ma'am'selle ! I run — 
and run — (collapsing on floor) — I arrive! 

Cecile (motioning to chair by fireplace). Go rest a few 
moments. (Vilette obeys.) It is quite evident that they 
have discovered the whereabouts of the ammunition. 
Thank goodness, they do not know at what building to 
aim their guns. 

Miss S. Isn't it possible that they do know? They seem 
to know everything. 

Cecile. How possible? So few of us have been told of 
the hiding place that if the secret is discovered it rather 
breathes of carelessness — or treachery. The military coun- 
cil — the men who are on guard — our hospital staff — surely 
the number of those who are concerned is restricted. 

Miriam. Sergeant Hilton knows. 

Cecile. Knows! Impossible. 

Miriam. Why is it impossible? He is in close commu- 
nication with the government. 

Cecile. I don't believe it. 

Miriam. But he said so. 

Cecile. Still I don't believe it. 

Miriam. Cecile! 

Cecile. We must have further information — and I'll 
go myself. (To Miriam.) Miriam, will you see that our 
patients are undisturbed? (To Miss S.) Eleanor, will you 
keep watch as you suggested? I won't be long — for doubt- 
less I'll meet someone who is able to tell me what I want 
to know. (Exit L. of C. in F.) 

(Miriam crosses to R. U. E. and goes out. Mrss S., in 
deep thought, stands motionless for a few moments, then 
hurries to window, kneels and looks in every direction. As 
she starts to rise she spies the book which has dropped 
from Sergeant Hilton's pocket. She seizes it eagerly, 
turns the pages rapidly and reads here and there. Then, 
rising quickly, she crosses to C.) 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 31 

Miss S. Vilette ! 

Vilette (rising quickly). Oui, ma'am'selle. 

Miss S. Do you love your country? 

Vilette. Love France — la belle France? Oh, ma'am'- 
selle ! 

Miss S. Are you willing to do your part toward saving 
your village from — the Boches? 

Vilette. Oh, ma'am'selle — you know I am ! 

Miss S. Then listen. Go quietly and quickly down the 
path at the back of the hill — and when you reach the road 
turn to your left until you come to the cross ways. Then 
to the right until you see a trail which leads into the woods. 
Follow the trail and it will bring you to a hut. Knock 
four times and a man will open the door. You will say 
"The Stars and Stripes" — and will hand him — this. (Takes 
a small American flag from her gown.) Do you under- 
stand ? 

Vtlette. Oui. 

Miss S. Then tell me — quickly — just what you are to do. 

Vilette. Down ze hill — turn to ze left — reach ze cross 
ways, zen to ze right — follow ze trail — knock at ze door 
— so (knocks on cJiair four times), and when ze door opens 
— like zis — (holds out flag to imaginary person and strikes 
a dramatic attitude) ze Stars and Stripes! 

Miss S. Exactly. Now off wkh you, and be quick, for 
every moment counts. Nobody is likely to molest you — and 
if anybody tries, remember that you are doing your bit — 
for France ! 

Vilette hurries out L. of C. in F. Miss S. stands 
motionless for a moment, crosses to the window and looks 
out, and then, thrusting the book inside her gown, turns 
and goes out at R. U. E. Stage is clear for a few mo- 
ments, then Cecile enters hurriedly from L. of C. in F. 
SJie tlirozvs off a long, dark wrap on chair near fireplace, 
then crosses hastily to R. U. /:., looks cautiously out the 
door, dra7cs the curtains and returns to door at L. of C. 
in F. After glancing down the hall, she hastens to fire- 
place and front 7^'ithin draws out a small telephone. 



32 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Cecile (at telephone). I have just been authentically 
informed that the company of Germans now in the village 
is a detachment from a near-by army, and that this deflec- 
tion from the main route is for a definite purpose — the 
ammunition, of course. (She pauses for a few moments.) 
From the position of the guns there is every indication 
that the chateau is to be shelled. (Pauses.) We can best 
observe maneuvers from here — and will keep you posted. 
(Hangs up receiver, hides telephone and hurries to win- 
dow. As she does so, there is the sound of a machine gun.) 
Enter Miriam from R. U. E. 

Miriam. They have fired at the chateau! (Hurries to 
window.) 

Cecile. And have thereby settled the last doubt we may 
have had concerning their ignorance of the hiding place. 

(The shot is answered and is succeeded by a volley.) 

Miriam (covering her ears). If they reach the ammu- 
nition — the explosion — 

Cecile. They do not wish to reach the ammunition in 
that way. They prefer it intact. 

Miriam. Then why the firing? Why — (another volley 
sounds and she gazes intently out the window.) Cecile, 
our men have missed their mark ! 

Cecile (hurrying to fireplace and taking telephone). 
Aim directly at the clump of trees to the right of the 
church. (Pauses and a moment after comes the firing.) 

Miriam. Splendid! Right in their midst. (Sound of 
guns.) Wait! That doesn't come from the same place. 
(Looks intently.) It's just beyond the school house. 

Cecile (at telephone). Beyond the school house. 
(Pauses.) What's that? (To Miriam.) The trees ob- 
scure their aim. Can you direct the shot? 

Miriam. I'll try. (Pauses and looks intently.) Directly 
over the gate in the north wall. 

Cecile (at telephone). Directly over the gate in the 
north wall. (Pause — and the shot is heard.) 

Miriam (after a close scrutiny). More to the right. 

Cecile (at telephone). More to the right. (Guns sound.) 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 33 

Miriam. Oh, the north wall is shattered! 
Enter Miss S. from R. U. E. 

Miss S. (at C). I've been watching every move. The 
firing is a blind. The shots are not aimed to do damage. 
For while they are attracting attention in this way, a long 
line of men is creeping up the back of the hill with the 
purpose of attacking. 

Cecile. You are sure of this, Eleanor? 

Miss S. Sure — oh, very sure. 

Cecile (at telephone). They are planning an attack. 
The men are marching up the hack of the hill and evidently 
the bring is to divert attention. (Pause.) I'll keep you 
posted. (Hangs up receiver and hides telephone.) 

Sergeant Hilton and Rudolph appear L. of C. in E. 

Sergeant (to Rudolph). You will mount guard in the 
hall, Rudolph, and remember that no one is to pass. (Ru- 
dolph salutes and withdraws from sight). Ladies, I beg 
your pardon for this interruption. Imperative business 
alone excuses it. 

Cecile {standing back of chair by fireplace). Then will 
you explain your — unannounced — visit, Sergeant? (Miss 
S. withdraws to chair L. of table.) 

Sergeant. It has to do with the loss of a small book 
which I always carry with me. You doubtless remember 
it, Miss Thorpe? 

Miriam. Perfectly. 

Sergeant. Then you recall its value to me. 

Miriam. I do — and I am sorry to hear of its loss. 

Sergeant (his tone changing). If so — return it to me. 

Miriam {in surprise). I do not understand you. 

Sergeant. The book is gone and it must have slipped 
from my pocket when I was here with you. 

Miriam. But I have not seen it and (looks around) it is 
not here. 

Sergeant. Are you quite sure of this, Miss Thorpe? 

Miriam (haughtily). I do not like your attitude, Ser- 
geant Hilton. My word is sufficient. 



34 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Sergeant. Then I beg your pardon for the annoyance. 
(Tunis to Cecile.) Miss Deering, may- 1 ask you for some 
information which will help — our cause? (Cecile nods.) 
Then — will you put me in touch with the other chateau? 

Cecile. That is quite outside my province, Sergeant 
Hilton. 

Sergeant. But Miss Thorpe informs me that you are 
in direct communication with headquarters. 

Cecile. What is your interpretation of direct communi- 
cation? 

Sergeant. Well — perhaps — a telephone. 

Cecile. I see. On the other hand, Miss Thorpe might 
have been speaking figuratively — or in broad terms. 

Sergeant. I think not. You deny your close relation 
with the government? 

Cecile (coolly). Why should I? I am a very loyal 
daughter of France and my particular work naturally 
brings me into touch with authority. 

Sergeant. Exactly. Which fact creates the natural in- 
ference that you must have some direct means of commu- 
nication. 

Cecile. Even if I had this means of communication, 
as you choose to call it, why should I reveal it to you? 

Sergeant. I believe I told you why. 

Cecile. Then I shall be wholly frank with you. Were 
there a telephone — here — in this room, I should not give 
my permission for you to use it. 

Sergeant. And why? 

Cecile. Because. I do not trust you, Sergeant Hilton. 

Sergeant. Very well. Your frankness makes it much 
easier for me to continue. Laying conventionality and di- 
gression aside, show me the telephone, Miss Deering, and 
show me immediately. 

Cecile. Your tone is insufferable. Please leave the 
house at once. 

Sergeant. Not until I discover the source, of the infor- 
mation which is keeping the chateau apprised of our move- 
ments. 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 35 

Miriam. Our movements? 

Sergeant. The German movements. If the public has 
chosen to misconstrue my allegiance, it is not my fault. 

Miriam (in horror). You mean that you have deceived 
us? That you are a spy — a traitor? 

Sergeant. If you care to put it that way. All's fair 
in war times, you know. Your dear Americans were easily 
hoodooed, Miss Thorpe, for they fell for me without the 
slightest suspicion of my real lousiness. 

Miriam. Oh, the shame of it — the dishonor of it — and 
to think that any man could be so low, so base, so treach- 
erous ! 

Sergeant. Cut out the hysterics, Miss Thorpe, and I'll 
forgive you the epithets, since you did me a good turn 
today by telling me just where we could find the ammu- 
nition. 

Miriam. Cecile! Can you ever forgive me? (Cecile 
crosses to her.) 

Sergeant. You see, we knew of the hidden treasure, 
but not its exact whereabouts. When I discovered Miss 
Thorpe in the neighborhood I thought that it might be to 
my advantage to renew the acquaintance. It was — for, 
through her, I was able to tell my men just where to fire. 

(Meanwhile the firing continues intermittently. While the 
Sergeant is talking, Miss S., unnoticed by him, catches 
up the library shears on the table and quietly moves to fire- 
place. She takes out the telephone, severs the cord and 
returns to her former position.) 

Cecile. My roof never shelters a spy. ^ T ill you go? 

Sergeant. In my own time, Miss Deering. Or, in other 
words, when you show me the telephone. It's quite useless 
to delay — for if you persist in refusing I shall find it for 
myself — at the sacrifice of your most attractive furnish- 
ings. 

Miss S. Suppose you try the fireplace, Sergeant Hilton. 

Miriam. Eleanor! 

Cecile. How dare you! (Steps forward.) Sergeant 
Hilton, I forbid you to take another step. 



36 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Sergeant (pushing her aside). I obey orders only from 
my superior officers, Miss Deering. (Goes to fireplace.) A 
clever hiding place, indeed. (Draws out telephone and ob- 
serves severed cord.) Who did this? 

Miss S. (holding up hand). Guilty. 

Sergeant (in sudden suspicion). Who are you? 

Miss S. (still holding shears). You might call us the 
three Fates. Wasn't it Atropos who held the shears and 
cut the thread of life? 

Sergeant {furiously). You shall all pay for this. And do 
you think for a moment that anything you do can check 
us or hold us from victory? Why — even now — our men are 
creeping up the hill ready to attack. (Snapping fingers.) 
That for any chance you have and your precious patients 
upstairs ! 

Miss S. Do you believe in Providence, Sergeant Hilton, 
or have you ever heard that — sometimes — help comes in 
the nick of time? (A bugle sounds.) Listen! (Miriam and 
Cecile rush to window.) 

Cecile. The Stars and Stripes ! 

Miriam. Our men — our men! (Seises American flag 
from above the desk and waves it out the window.) Look, 
look, Cecile, they see us — they're saluting. (Half crying.) 
Oh, I'm homesick. I want to go back — I want to be under 
my own flag! (Excitedly.) Do you see, Cecile? They're 
marching to meet the Germans — and we're saved — we're 
saved ! 

(Sergeant Hilton has joined them at the window. 
While his back is turned. Miss S. steps quietly to L. of C. 
in F. and stands there facing the audience.) 

Sergeant. So this is what you've done! (Furiously.) 
Then, by heaven, you'll pay for it. (Turns and starts to 
go through door at L. of C. in F. Miss S. confronts him 
with revolver.) 

Miss S. Hands up, Sergeant Hilton ! 

Sergeant. What nonsense is this? Put down that pistol. 

Miss S. Put up your hands — (Sergeant Hilton starts 
toward her. She steps backward, still holding revolver.) 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 37 

else I'll shoot — and I'll shoot to kill. A secret service 
woman seldom misses her mark. (Sergeant Hilton steps 
back in surprise, then holds up his hands.) Ah! That puts 
quite a different light upon the matter, doesn't it ? You see, 
I'm not bluffing-. (To Miriam and Cecile.) Look, girls. 
You notice that the poor, limp arm upon which you lavished 
so much sympathy is as good as new. And, doubtless, the 
injured eyes are better — although they did not prove keen 
enough to foresee this emergency. (To Sergeant Hilton.) 
As to you, Sergeant Hilton, perhaps you remember now 
the inquisitive girl who so plied you with questions at the 
dance ; perhaps you remember seeing me on the ship in 
which you crossed — although you couldn't exactly place 
me; and, perhaps (with her free hand drawing book from 
dress) you remember — this! 

Sergeant (starting tozvard her). You'll give me this — 

Miss S. (stepping back). Oh, no, I won't. (As he starts 
to lower his hands.) Watch out! (He raises than again.) 
Miss Deering, it will be wiser to take any weapon you may 
find upon him. (Cecile removes revolver from his pocket.) 
Thank you. (Holds up book.) It's an interesting little 
book — exceedingly interesting. When all your friends were 
hazarding speculations upon its contents, you perhaps will 
recall that I suggested — statistics. I guessed right, and they 
are worth while statistics — for your country, Sergeant. All 
kinds of data about our training camps ; minute maps show- 
ing intersection of railroads ; exact details of our coast 
defences. 

Sergeant. It's a lie. 

Miss S. At first glance its contents appeared very inno- 
cent — 4:he philosophical diary of a brave soldier — but I gave 
it the acid test and between the lines and back of it all 
written in invisible ink is exactly what I have told you — 
information invaluable to an invading army, and sufficient 
proof that there is no room for you in the American com- 
monwealth. 

Sergeant. I never again expect to see America. 

Miss S. I'm not so sure of that. (Listens intently.) 



38 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

Even now I fancy that I hear the footsteps of approaching 
fate. {Sound of scuffling off stage.) 

Sergeant (nervously). What do you mean? 

Miss S. That your little watch-dog with the German 
name is by this time probably in the hands of the law ; and 
that the law, like John Brown's soul, is marching on — in 
this direction. (Calls, without taking her eyes from the 
Sergeant.) Uncle Sam? 

Voice (from off stage). Coming. 

Miss S. Here's your prisoner. 

Enter. Harrison in uniform, at L. of C. in F. 

Harrison. Keep your pose just a moment more, Elea- 
nor — until I put the seal of approval upon him. (As Ser- 
geant Hilton struggles.) No use, Hilton, for this pistol 
can shoot, and if you were to escape you'd run right into 
the arms of a guard outside that door. We have been after 
you a long time, Harry Howard, deserter from the United 
States army and spy in the German service, alias Sergeant 
Hilton, survivor of the famous Royal Rifles ; but you've 
been clever and you left our shores before we proved our 
case. If it hadn't been for this little girl (indicating Miss 
S.) we might have lost you, and all your fine plans would 
have succeeded. (Snaps handcuffs upon him.) 

Miss S. (handing her revolver to Harrison). As it is — 
well, did you ever hear the little poem which goes some- 
thing like this : 
The King of France rode up the hill with full ten thousand 

men, 
The King of France did gain the top — and then rode down 

again. 
That's what is going on out there (pointing out the win- 
dow), but it doesn't happen to be the King of France this 
time. 

(Harrison seises Sergeant Hilton, pushes him to the 
door and goes out with him.) 

Miss S. (running to Cecile). Can you ever forgive me 
for my erratic career? I'm really Eleanor Harris and I 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 39 

never want to hear that hateful Smith again. [As Har- 
rison re-enters.) And this is my brother, Raymond Har- 
ris. (Holds out her hand and draws him to Cecile, zvho 
cordially greets him.) You knew him, Miss Thorpe, as 
Harrison Ray. (Harrison takes Miriam's hand.) He's 
been doing secret service work, which fact explains many 
things. 

Cecile. Mr. Harris, I'm sure you realize just how grate- 
ful I am, just how much your intervention means to us here 
in the village, and just what you have done for France. 

Harrison. I only regret, Miss Deering, that I was forced 
to stage my arrest in your home. But if you had been 
chasing this rogue as I have, you wouldn't have hesitated 
to snatch him — even in the Kaiser's palace. 

Cecile. Indeed, I do appreciate the situation, and I 
mean every word when I say that I wouldn't have missed 
it for the world. 

Miriam. Won't you tell us about it — from the first? 

Harrison. For some months the government has had 
this man under suspicion, but has been unable to obtain 
any real proof of his duplicity. He seemed frank and above 
board ; he displayed a patriotism above criticism, and he 
had a most engaging personality, as you all can testify. 
I was sent to your particular training camp ahead of his 
scheduled time, and at this move in the game my sister 
entered. (Puts arm around her.) She helped me out by 
discovering that he carried a little black book — and from 
that time we looked upon this book as the proof of his guilt. 

Miss S. Tell them, Ray, that I'm not a real secret service 
person ! 

Harrison. Well, you ought to be, for all the credit of 
this capture goes to you. (To Miriam and Cecile.) To go 
on. Hilton kept eluding us, but by chance we learned that 
he was booked to sail from Canada on a certain steamer. 
Eleanor had planned to join Miss Thorpe in the hospital 
work here, so sailed with him, while I took an earlier boat. 
When he made his way to this particular village, we thought 
his movements suspicious, but, fortunately, Eleanor was 



40 THE CALL OF THE COLORS 

on the ground. Today she sent me the message which I 
had been expecting, in anticipation of which I kept an 
American regiment ready to go to the defence of the am- 
munition. The rest you know. 

Cecile. But — the message? What was it? 

Miss S. The Stars and Stripes ! It meant the need of 
the soldiers, and a flag along with it was to signify that I 
had gained possession of the book, which was the only 
proof we needed. 

Miriam. But who took the message? And how did you 
reach him in time? 

Miss S. Via Vilette. She waved the Stars and Stripes 
and did her bit for France. Didn't she, Ray? 

Harrtson. Exactly. And you should have seen her 
when the boys gave her the salute. 

Cecile. Oh, I want to hear her own version of it. 

"Miss S. And I want to give the boys upstairs my own 
version of what's happened. Tt will read like a movie with 
a "they all lived happily ever after" ending. (Glancing 
mischievously from Miriam to Harrison.) I hope! 

Cecile. Come, we'll go together. (Hastens to door L. 
of C. in F., pulling Miss S. after her. At the door slie 
turns and calls laughingly.) You'll excuse us? (Exeunt 
Cecile and Miss S.) 

Harrison (after a moment's silence). T'm wearing the 
khaki, Miriam. 

Miriam. You have always worn it — in your heart. 

Harrison. There are many ways of answering the call 
of the colors. 

Miriam. And yours was the hardest, for it brought you 
misunderstanding, criticism and estrangement. 

Harrison. You trusted me through it all, Miriam. 

Miriam. But I said harsh things to you. (Pauses.) Can 
you ever forgive me? 

Harrison. I've nothing to forgive. (After a moment.) 
Miriam, the government has granted me my wish — and I 
am on my way to the trenches. 

Miriam. That makes me very proud — and very sad. 



THE CALL OF THE COLORS 41 

Harrison. And when a man faces the Great Adventure, 
life resolves itself into elemental things — friendship, faith 
and — love. Your friendship I carry with me, your faith 
will be my inspiration — 

Miriam (tremulously, as she holds out her hands to 
him). And my love. Won't you take that, too? 

Curtain. 



Deacon Dubbs 

By WALTER BEN HARE 

Price, 25 Cents 

A rural comedy-drama in 3 acts; 5 males, 5 females. Time, 
2*4 hours. One scene throughout, a farmyard, not difficult to set. 
A play of pathos, clean cut rural comedy, local color and a touch 
of sensation, making" a truly great offering for amateurs. It is 
professional-like in construction, yet easily within the scope of any 
amateur society. The types are true to life, not exaggerated cari- 
catures. The star role is a comedy old farmer, not the usual stage 
type of hayseed, but the real, genuine, kind hearted, wise old 
Deacon, a part as appealing in its way, as Uncle Josh Whitcomb, 
Nathaniel Berry or David Harum. The heroine. Rose Raleigh, 
the brave little school ma'am, is a strong, emotional part. A 
country boy and a Swede hired girl are great comedy parts; also 
a comedy old maid (almost a star part), tomboy soubrette. A 
finely drawn hero, character auctioneer, an excellent villain, etc. 
The characters are almost all equally good. A male quartet and 
a crowd of villagers will greatly add to the success of the play. 
A feature scene in each act: A country auction, a country wed- 
ding, a country husking bee. This play is a sure hit. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — Rose Cottage on an afternoon in June. Yennie Yensen, 
the Swedish hired girl, wants to borrow some yumps and decides to 
bid on the hired man at the auction, as "he bane a purty gude 
looking feller." Miss Philipena arranges for the auction sale. 
Rose and Amos. "Out of the broken ruins of time fair blossoms 
grow, God's last amen is a white rose." The Deacon arrives from 
Sorghum Center, State o' West Virginny. "Ding, dong, bell, 
pussy's in the well." The farm is sold to Rose Raleigh for two 
thousand dollars. The defeat of Rawdon Crawley. 

A<t II. — Same scene, a morning in August. Wedding hells. 
"Happy is the bride that the sun shines on." Deuteronomy and 
Yennie bring wedding presents. Miss Philipena takes a nap with 
disastrous results. Yennie is scared. "Your face, it bane put on 
backwards." Back from the grave. "You are my wife. Take 
off that bridal wreath, that sparkling necklace." "Who is this 
man?" The Deacon arrests Rawdon Crawley. 

Act 711. — Same scene but a year later and in autumn. The 
husking bee. Songs and merriment by the villagers. "Rawdon 
Crawley has escaped!" "Tin's is my punishment and my punish-' 
ment is more than T can hear." The Deacon returns from New 
York. Miss Philipena and the fractious cow. The Deacon's night- 
mare. "Cork. cork, cork!" A wheelbarrow for two. The Virginia 
reel. The deatli of Rawdon Crawley. "We'll have a double wed- 
ding and for a honeymoon we'll all go down to Sorghum Center, 
State o' West Virginny." 

Their First Quarrel 

By CHARLES NEVERS HOLMES. 

Price, 15 Cents 

A comedy; 1 male. 1 female. Time, 15 minutes. A bit of glue. 
Which has the appearance of chewing gum. underneath the seat of 
a chair — and "that's how the trouble began." A subtle bit of humor 
that will surely please. Could be played in a parlor without scenery. 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 



Safety First 



By SHELDON PARMER 

Price, 25 Cents 

Farce-comedy, in 3 acts; 5 males, 5 females. Time, 2*4 hours. 
Scenes: A parlor and a garden, easily arranged. A sprightly 
farce full of action and with a unique plot teeming- with unex- 
pected turns and twists that will make the audience wonder "what 
on earth is coming next." Behind the fun and movement lurks 
a great moral: Always tell the truth to your wife. The cast 
includes three young men, a funny policeman, a terrible Turk, 
two young ladies, a society matron, a Turkish maiden and Mary 
O'Finnigan, the Irish cook. The antics of the terror-stricken 
husband, the policeman, the dude and the Irish cook start the 
audience smiling at 8:15 and send them home with aching sides 
from the tornado of fun at 10:40. Suitable for performance any- 
where, but recommended for lodges, clubs and schools. Not a 
coarse or suggestive line in the play. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — Jack's lil suburban home. A misplaced husband. "He 
kissed me good-bye at eighteen minutes after seven last night, 
and I haven't laid eyes on him since." The Irish maid is full 
of sympathy but she imagines a crime has been committed. 
Elmer, the college boy, drops in. And the terrible Turk drops 
out. "Sure the boss has eloped wid a Turkey!" Jerry and Jack 
come home after a horrible night. Explanations. "We joined the 
Shriners, I'm the Exalted Imported Woggle and Jack is the Ba- 
zook!" A detective on the trail. Warrants for John Doe, Richard 
Roe and Mary Moe. "We're on our way to Florida!" 

Act II. — A month later, Jack and Jerry reported drowned at 
sea. The Terrible Turk looking for Zuleika. The return of the 
prodigals. Ghosts! Some tall explanations are in order. "I never 
was drowned in all my life, was I, Jerry?" "We were lashed to 
a mast and we floated and floated and floated!" A couple of 
heroes. The Terrible Turk hunting for Jack and Jerry. "A Turk 
never injures an insane man." Jack feigns insanity. "We are 
leaving this roof forever!" The end of a perfect day. 

Act III. — Mrs. Bridger's garden. Elmer and Zuleika start on 
their honeymoon. Mabel forgives Jack, but her mamma does not. 
They decide to elope. Jerry's scheme works. The two McNutts. 
"Me middle name is George Washington, and I cannot tell a 
lie." The detective falls in the well. "It's his ghost!" Jack and 
Jerry preparing for the elopement. Mary Ann appears at the 
top of the ladder. A slight mistake. "It's a burglar, mum, I've 
got him!" The Terrible Turk finds his Zuleika. Happiness at last. 

Foiled, By Heck ! 

By FREDERICK G. JOHNSON 

Price, 25 Cents 

A truly rural drama, in 1 scene and several dastardly acts; 
3 males, 3 females. Time, 35 minutes. Scene: The mortgaged 
home of the homespun drama, between sunup and sundown. 
Characters: Reuben, a nearly self-made man. His wife, who 
did the rest. Their perfectly lovely daughter. Clarence, a rustic 
hero, by ginger! Olivia, the plaything of fate, poor girl. Syl- 
vester, with a viper's heart. Curses! Curses! Already he has 
the papers. A screaming travesty on the old-time "b'gosh" drama. 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 



Mrs. Tubbs Does Her Bit 

By WALTER BEN HARE 

Price, 25 Cents 

Patriotic comedy-drama, in 3 acts; 7 males, 7 females (4 are 
children, 2 bovs. 2 girls). Time, 2'i hours. Scenes: Interior and 
a camp at midnight, very easily arranged. Characters: Mrs. 
Mollie Tubbs, a patriotic mother. Aunt Serepty, a wealthy rela- 
tive Clingie Vine, a romantic old maid. Mrs. Hickey, a kind 
neighbor. Elsie, a Red Cross nurse. James Tubbs, one of Uncle 
Sam's boys. Simon Rubbels, the close-fisted landlord. Major Pep- 
per, commander of the camp. Nelson and Graham, privates. 
Queenie Tubbs, aged eleven. Scuffles, aged ten Billy, a little 
feller Punky, the Tubbs toddler. A refined and delightful play 
featuring a woman's patriotism. The story is intensely dramatic 
and abounds in patriotic sentiment, relieved by several scenes of 
broad but refined comedy. Mrs. Tubbs gives her son to her coun- 
try and does her bit when she takes his place as sentry at the 
training camp at midnight. A Red Cross nurse lends a romantic 
touch to the play and a funny old maid and two mischievous 
children furnish the comedy. The audience will love this poor 
widow washwoman of Shantytown, who at the darkest moment 
has a ready smile and a song of cheer in her heart. 
MRS. TUBBS SAYS: 

"A song and a smile makes life worth while. 

Eggs has riz sump'm scand'lous. How do the hens know 
there's a war over in Europe? . 

Some folks 'ud rather grunt than smile; I am t never heard 
a hog laugh yet, but they certainly can grunt. 

I know that if I had ten sons. I'd give each one of em to my 
country and be proud to say, 'America, here's my boy 

I ain't never received nothin' yet from my rich relations except 
advice and picture post-cards and I ain't goin' to ask em now. 

I ain't much, I know that, I'm only a poor widow washwoman 
livin' in the slums of Shantytown, but I'm an American and ill 
stand up fer my country and my Hag. 

Mavbe Simon Rubbels ain't as bad as he s painted, but there 
ain't no angel wings a-sproutin' out of his * houl / u : rs * n , d o \Y* n '|: 
tired that his breath smells a heap more like brimstone than it 

d0eS rve k maa 1 e e up°my" mind and when Mollie Tubbs makes up her 
mind the hull United States army and navy to boot cant unmake 
it. Gimme that rifle! I'm doing my bit fer humanity and my 

lia 'if 6 every black cloud had a cyclone in it, the world 'ud a been 
blowed to toothpicks long ago. 

And quit lookin' like a undertaker! 

It's the little things in life that count, Scuffles. The little 
tiling Why you might have a di'mond ring on your finger and 
a gold watch in your pocket, but if you only got one suspender 
button and that busts, then where are you? mor . 

Hand to hand, foot to foot, shoulder to shoulder they march 
the rich and the poor, the high and the low, the college man and 
the day laborer, the millionaire and the tramp, the white and 
the black, with one idea in their minds, one purpose in then 
hearts, one voice in their ears, a voice that says Carry on, and 
in "nd on, forward for God and home and The Star-Spanned 
Banner!' " 



T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 



DENISON'S 


ACTING PLAYS 


Price 15 Cents Each, Postpaid, 


Unless Different Price Is Given 


M, 

Winning Widow, 2 acts, \ l / 2 hrs. 


F. 


M. F. 

Wide Enough for Two, 45 min. 5 2 


(25c) 2 


,1 




Women Who Did, 1 hr...(25c) 


7 


Yankee Peddler, 1 hr 7 3 


Yankee Detective, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 8 


3 


VAUDEVILLE SKETCHES, MON- 


FARCES, COMEDIETAS, Etc. 




OLOGUES, ETHIOPIAN PLAYS. 


All on a Summer's Day, 40 min. 4 


6 


Ax'in' Her Father, 25 min.... 2 3 


April Fools, 30 min 3 




Booster Club of Blackville, 25 m.10 


Assessor, The, 10 min 3 


2 


Breakfast Food for Two, 20 m. I 1 


Baby Show at Pineville, 20 min. 


19 


Cold Finish, 15 min 2 1 


Billv's Chorus Girl, 25 min... 2 


3 


Colored Honeymoon, 25 min . . . 2 2 


Billy's Mishap, 20 min 2 


3 


Coon Creek Courtship, 15 min. 1 1 


Borrowed Luncheon, 20 min.. 


b 


Coming Champion, 20 min.... 2 


Borrowing Trouble, 20 min 3 


b 


Coontown Thirteen Club, 25 m. 14 


Case Against Casey, 40 min... 23 
Country Justice, 15 min 8 




Counterfeit Bills, 20 min 1 1 




Darktown Fire Brigade, 25 min. 10 


Cow that Kicked Chicago, 20 m. 3 


2 


Doings of a Dude, 20 min.... 2 1 


Divided Attentions, 35 min 1 


4 


Dutch Cocktail, 20 min 2 


Dude in a Cyclone, 20 min. ... 4 


2 


For Reform, 20 min 4 


Familv Strike, 20 min 3 


3 


Fresh Timothy Hay, 20 min.. 2 1 


First-Class Hotel, 20 min 4 




Glickman, the Glazier, 25 min. 1 1 


For Love and Honor, 20 min.. 2 


1 


Good Mornin' Judge, 35 min.. 9 2 


Fudge and a Burglar, 15 min.. 


5 


Her Hero, 20 min 1 1 


Fun in Photo Gallery, 30 min.. 6 10 


Ilev, Rube! 15 min 1 


Great Medical Dispensary, 30 m. 6 
Great Pumpkin Case, 30 min.. 1 2 






Tumbo Jum, 30 min 4 3 


Hans Von Smash, 30 min.... 4 


3 


Little Red School House. 20 m. 4 


I'm Not Mesilf at All, 25 min. 3 


2 


Love and Lather, 35 min..... 3 2 
Marriage and After, 10 min.. 1 


Initiating a Granger, 25 min.. 8 




Irish Linen Peddler, 40 min... 3 


3 


Memphis Mose, 25 min 5 1 


Is the Editor In? 20 min... 4 


2 


Mischievous Nigger, 25 min.. 4 2 


i Kansas Immigrants, 20 min... 5 


1 


Mistaken Miss, 20 min 1 1 


Men Not Wanted, 30 min 


8 


Mr. and Mrs. Fido, 20 min 1 1 


Mike Donovan's Courtship. 15 m. 1 


3 


Oh, Doctor! 30 min 6 2 , 


Mother Goose's Goslings, 30 m. 7 


9 


One Sweetheart for Two, 20 m. 2 


Mrs. Jenkins' Brilliant Idea, 35m. 


8 


Oshkosh Next Week, 20 min . . 4 


Mrs. Stubbins' Book Agent, 30 m. 3 


2 


Oyster Stew, 10 min 2 


My Wife's Relations, 1 hr..-. 4 


6 


Pete Yansen's Curl's Moder, 10m. 1 


Not a Man in the House, 40 m. 


b 


Pickles for Two, IS min 2 


Pair of Lunatics, 20 min 1 


1 


Pooh Bah of Peacetown, 35 min. 2 2 


Patsv O'Wang, 35 min . .. 4 


3 


Prof. Black's Funnygraph, 15 m. 6 


Pat, the Apothecary, 35 min.. 6 




Sham Doctor, 10 min 4 2 


Persecuted Dutchman, 30 min. 6 
Regular Fix, 35 min. 6 


3 
4 




Special Sale, 15 min 2 


' Second .Childhood, 15 min.... 2 




Stage Struck Darky, 10 min.. 2 1 


Shadows, 35 min 2 


2 


Sunny Son of Italy, 15 min.. 1 


Sing a Song of Seniors, 30 min. 


i 


Time Table, 20 min 1 1 


Taking Father's Place, 30 min. 5 


3 


Tramp and the Actress, 20 min. 1 1 


Taming a Tiger, 30 mm 3 




Troubled by Gkosts, 10 min... 4 


That Rascal Pat, 30 min 3 


2 


Troubles of Rozinski, 15 min.. 1 


Those Red Envelopes, 25 min. 4 


4 


Two Jay Detectives, 15 min.. 3 


Too Much of a Good Thing, 45 




Umbrella Mender, 15 min.... 2 




k 




Turn Him Out, 35 min 3 


2 


What Happened to Hannah, 15m. 1 1 


Two Aunts and a Photo, 20 m. 
Two Gentlemen in a Fix, 15 m. 2 


4 


i 


- - ■ i 


Two Ghosts in White, 20 min . . 


8 


A great number of 


* Two of a Kind, 40 min 2 

Uncle Dick's Mistake, 20 min.. 3 


3 
2 


Standard and Amateur Plays 


Wanted a Correspondent, 45 m. 4 


4 


not found here are listed in 


Wanted a Hero, 20 min.- 1 


1 


Denlson's Catalogue 


T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, 


Publishers , 1 54 W . Randolph St . , Chicago 



POPULAR ENTERTAII 

Price, Illustrated Paper Cov 



i 






: i 


1 y ily wfoi y cai 


1 Eni 




s 

j 

1 


PU&LlSTVEfi.S CniCniSU 





IN this Series 
are found 
books touching 
every feature 
in the enter- 
tainment field. 
Finely made, 
good paper, 
clear print and 
each book has 
an attractive 
individual cov- 
er design. 
A Partial List 

DIALOGUES 

All Sorts of Dialogues. 

Selected, fine for older pupils. 
Catchy Comic Dialogues. 

Very clever; for young, people. 
Children's Comic Dialogues. 

■From six to eleven years of age. 
Country School Dialogues. 

Brand new, original. 
Dialogues for District Schools. . 

For country schools. 
Dialogues from Dickens. 

Thirteen selections. 
The Friday Afternoon, Dialogues. 

Oyer 50,000 copies sold. 
From Tots to Teens. 

Dialogues and recitations. 
Humorous Homespun Dfalogues. 

For older ones. 
Little People's Plays. 

From 7 to 13 years of age. 
Lively Dialogues. 

For all ages; mostly humorous. 
Merry Little Dialogues. 

Thirty-eight original selections. 
When the Lessons are Over. 

Dialogues, drills, plays. 
Wide Awake Dialogues. 

Original successful. 

SPEAKERS, MONOLOGUES 

Choice Pieces for Little People; 

A child's speaker. 
The Comic Entertainer. 

Recitations, monologues, dialogues. 
Dialect Readings. 

Irish, Dutch, Negro, Scotch, etc. 
The Favorite Speaker. 

Choice prose and poetry. 
The Friday Afternoon Speaker. 

For pupils of all ages. 
Humorous Monologues. 

Particularly for ladies. 
Monologues for Young Folks. 

Clever, humorous, original. 



Moi 
Scr 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

HIM 

018 604 641 9 

morous, descriptive, pro sjc» v 
poetry. 15 Nos., per No. 25c 

DRILLS 

The* Best Drill Book. 

Very popular drills and marches. 
The Favorite Book of Drills. 

Drills that sparkle with originality. 
Little Plays With Drills. 

For children from 6 to 11 years. 
The Surprise Drill Book. 

Fresh, novel, drills and marches. 

SPECIALTIES 

The Boys' Entertainer. 

Monologues, dialogues, drills. 
Children's Party Book. 

Invitations, decorations, games. 
The Days We Celebrate. 

Entertainments for all the holidays. 
Good Things for Christmas. 

Recitations, dialogues, drills. 
Good Things for Sunday Schools. 

Dialogues, exercises, recitations. 
Good Things for Thanksgiving. 

A gem of a book. 
Good Things for Washington 

and Lincoln Birthdays. 
Little Folks' Budget. 

Easy pieces to speak, songs. 
One Hundred Entertainments. 

New parlor diversions, socials. 
Patriotic Celebrations. 

Great variety of material. 
Pictured Readings and Tableaux. 

Entirely original features. 
Pranks and Pastimes. 

Parlor games for children. 
Private Theatricals. 

How to put on plays. 
Shadow Pictures, Pantomimes, 

Charades, and how to prepare. 
Tableaux and Scenic Readings. 

New and novel; for all ages. 
Twinkling Fingers and Sway- 
ing Figures. For little tots. - 
Yuletide Entertainments. 

A choice Christmas collection. - 

MINSTRELS, JOKES 

Black American Joker. 

Minstrels' and end men's gags. 
A Bundle of Burnt Cork Comedy. 

Monologues, stump speeches, etc. 
Laughland,via the Ha-Ha Route. 

A merry trip for fun tourists. 
Negro Minstrels. 

All about the business. 
The New Jolly Jester. 

Funny stories, jokes, gags, etc^. 

Large Illustrated Catalogue Free 






T.S.DENISON & COMPANY,Publishers,154W. Randolph St., Chicago 



